


The Monroe

by audrarose



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-18
Updated: 2009-09-18
Packaged: 2017-10-09 03:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audrarose/pseuds/audrarose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kris takes something he shouldn't. Adam is concerned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Monroe

**Author's Note:**

> Months ago I anonymously claimed an anonymous prompt in a kink meme I can _no longer find_, but I swear, someone somewhere wanted drunk!Kris being all touchy and Adam not wanting to be that guy but finally giving in, only no non-con. So. Also probably not my best title, btw.

The problem with a Monroe, Kris thinks, is that it's really freaking distracting.

They're all at an after party at some club outside Detroit and it's so late that it's early. This girl who says her brother's on the crew has been talking to Kris for half an hour, and he's so tired her voice has just faded into the din of the music. The only thing keeping him awake is the tiny glint of a stud above her lip, because at first he thought it was a diamond, only now it looks kind of red, though that could be just the blinking strobe from the dance floor.

Suddenly she leans in close. "You want to kiss me, don't you?"

Kris blinks at her. So maybe the bigger problem with a Monroe is that now this girl thinks he's looking at her mouth.

"I mean, you've been staring at my lips all night," she says.

Which okay, technically he has, but not on purpose -- even if the Monroe is sort of disturbingly attractive, familiar in a way he can't quite place.

"No, no," he says, startled. "I was just wondering what kind of stone that is. So really no." He knows from the way she pulls back that he should have phrased that differently.

He starts to apologize but she shrugs. "Hey, I get it, it's late, no worries." She bends her head and digs lipgloss out of her purse, slicks it on without a mirror. "You're a good guy, Kris Allen. Take care okay?"

Later he remembers mumbling some kind of a response but he's really just desperately glad this conversation is over. He's wondering if he can get someone to go back to the hotel with him, because he still feels weird asking for a car for just himself, when Monroe-girl pulls a little rectangular tin box out of her purse, smaller than a business card. He can read the red printing on white from where he's sitting -- Tylenol -- and it makes him smile, because he didn't know they still made boxes like that, like the one his mom still carries in her purse. When she presses on the corners and opens it up he almost sighs in relief.

"Hey. Do you think I could have of those? Please?"

Her eyes widen and her lips spread in a slow smile like she's actually interested in him again. She pauses with a pill in her fingertips. "Well, this is a surprise. Are you sure?"

He wonders if it's a trick question. "Um. Yes?"

She nods. "Okay, I'll share. But one condition. Shot-gun."

"What's that --?" he starts, but she takes a mouthful of her lemondrop martini and licks the pill off her fingertips and leans into him. Then it's just cool citrus and the sharp, bitter taste of the pill dissolving between their tongues, so fast he couldn't spit it out if he wanted to. It's just gone, sifting into nothing but an expanding wave of heat in Kris's chest and a bedspin twirl of the club that makes his stomach roll. It takes a few seconds for him to realize that Monroe-girl is still kissing him.

The fingers that close around the back of his collar are a surprise. Whoever it is jerks him back so the crewneck of his t-shirt strangles him a little and his protest comes out like a cough.

"This is nice," a voice says.

Megan, and not amused at all from the sound of it.

Kris turns his mouth away enough to speak. "Hey." he says, pleasantly.

"Hey?" she repeats. "_Hey_?" She turns to Monroe-girl, one hand on her hip. "Can you excuse us, groupie freak? Kris needs to go have his brain re-attached. Don't you. Kris."

Monroe-girl looks Megan up and down. "Wow, you seemed a lot nicer on the show."

"Take. Off," Megan says, without unclenching her teeth. Kris thinks that's kind of a cool trick.

"Chill, okay? Just leaving," Monroe-girl says, and jumps down from the bar stool with an irritated little hop. "Bye, Kris. Have fun."

"Bye," Kris says, with a little wave.

"Just keep walking," Megan says to Monroe-girl's back. "Take a shortcut."

"That was kinda 'Mean Girls', wasn't it?" Kris asks.

"You? Don't talk," Megan says, and hauls him off the bar stool. She pulls him back to their spot in VIP with a grip on his arm that is going to leave marks. "Half this place is taking pictures for Perez," she hisses into his ear. "You want to see that liplock online tomorrow?" She dumps him on a faux-suede couch next to Matt, who makes a startled "Hey!" at almost getting Kris in his lap, but he moves over easily enough.

"Is Kris in trouble?" Matt asks Megan, all drunken seriousness. "Do we need to have a talk?"

"Ask him. He was making out with some groupie."

"Dude. Really?" Matt is somewhere between impressed and apalled.

"We were sharing a Tylenol," Kris explains to both of them, because he really needs to make that clear. Matt laughs himself into a collapse but Megan stares him down like he's lost his mind.

"You _took_ something with her? God, Allen, did you have a stroke of stupid on the way here? What are you _thinking_?"

And, well, okay, if he's being honest... at the moment he's thinking that Megan chewing the lipgloss off her bottom lip is sort of scarily sexy, and he'd do it for her if she wanted, as long as she promised not to bite him. He's also thinking that the hard press of Matt's arm into his side is weirdly disturbing, only in a good way that makes his face start to heat up. Kris remembers the bitter taste of the pill, the way it dissolved into nothing.

"Maybe not Tylenol?" he says.

Megan's expression goes from accusing to alarmed. "What exactly does that mean?" Megan asks, her voice higher than usual.

Kris opens his mouth to answer, but right then Matt puts his hand on the back of Kris's neck and asks if he's okay. It's so much easier to turn into Matt's shoulder and close his eyes than explain, to just enjoy the feel of Matt's hands warm on his back, Matt's soft laugh in his ear.

"Well, this looks cozy," Adam says, materializing from wherever he's been hanging out all night. It's too much trouble to look up at him, so Kris just settles in further.

"Obviously, I missed something," Adam says.

"Oh, loads," Megan answers. "We're just trying to figure out what Kris took."

"He's okay," Matt says. He sinks down a little further into the couch so Kris sinks with him, and this is much better, almost as good as laying down. Kris gives him a little kiss on the neck to say thanks and feels Matt shiver a little, even though it's really not cold at all.

"God, seriously?" Adam is laughing."People, do we really need to go over this again? Never take random shit someone hands you in a bar. Is this college?" His voice gets closer. "So how messed up are you?"

"Adam, we're good, I've got him," Matt says, and tightens his arm a little, resting one hand low on Kris' back where it feels amazing.

"Oh, I can see that," Adam says, and his laugh has an edge, now. Suddenly Kris is vertical again, hauled up by Adam's fist in the front of his shirt. There's too much momentum, though, so he just keeps going and puts his arms around Adam to keep himself steady, puts his face in Adam's chest and this is so much better than Matt. Better than anything.

"Hey, careful." Adam stumbles back a little but manages to right them both before they fall, then talks with his mouth right next to Kris's ear. "You doing okay?"

So much better than okay, but suddenly he really doesn't want to be at that club anymore.

"Just want to go home," Kris says, but all the vowels get left out. Adam pushes him away a little, one hand wrapped tight around Kris's bicep like he can tell Kris would just sit down on the ground if he didn't.

"Look at me for a minute," Adam says, and he sounds really serious about it so Kris tries. It's almost funny how Adam's face drifts in and out of focus, only Adam doesn't look amused. "Oh, fuck. You really did take something, didn't you? What was it?"

"Probably not Tylenol," Kris says. His tongue gets caught on his teeth.

Adam puts his free hand against the jerking pulse in Kris' neck, and his hand feels incredible, warm and smooth and strong, so Kris just leans into the touch. Adam practically shakes him off and lays his palm on Kris's shirt instead, right where Kris's heart is trying to high-five Adam's hand through his chest, right where Kris can't catch his breath anymore.

Adam swears some more, like he's trying to catch his breath, too, and then Kris is back against Adam's side, held there a little too hard.

"Where's security?" Adam asks, though he should know because they've been looking bored against the same wall since they got there. Kris waves in their direction and Adam raises his free hand like he's hailing a cab. One of the guys starts toward them as Adam fumbles his phone out of his pocket. He tries to dial one-handed while he holds Kris up with the other and Kris wonders who he's calling.

"Wait, who are you calling?" Megan asks, because obviously she's wondering, too. She puts one hand over the keypad.

"Who do you think?" Adam says, angry, and pulls the phone away. "Look at him!"

She does. Kris smiles at her.

"He looks okay to me," she says. "Maybe a little _happier_ than usual... if that's possible..."

Adam's fingers on the keypad are clumsy. "He can't even focus, and his heart feels like it's gonna burst - "

"Wait a minute." She fights Adam for the phone again. "Just wait, okay?" She holds the phone out behind her. "Look, I know how you are about him," Megan says, urgent and low, "but think for a second. Do you really want to call 911 because _Kris Allen_ OD'd in a club?"

"Hey, that's me," Kris says.

"The whole thing will be on CNN tomorrow," Megan goes on. "He's not _dying_ or anything --"

"Yet," Adam snaps.

"Then take him yourself." She hands him his phone. "I think you're over-reacting, but if you really think he needs a hospital, just go."

Adam looks at her like he's mad at her about something, then says, "Fine. Just find whoever gave him this shit. Find out what it is and call me at the hospital." Then he looks at Jeff from security who's worked his way over to them. "We need to get out of here right now." He says it like he's giving an order, and wow, Adam's usually way more polite than that.

"Diva much?" Kris says, but it gets muffled when Adam pulls Kris's hood over his head and mostly over his face. Then Adam drags him over to the back staircase that leads down from VIP to a side door.

There's always a side door.

Kris has learned that you always want to be seen going into VIP, but a lot of times you don't want to be seen coming out. Apparently this is one of those times. Adam hauls one of Kris's arms around his neck and practically lifts him off his feet as they descend. Kris tries to help in the process but Adam's moving too fast and holding him too hard, so Kris's feet barely bump the risers.

"Hey, I can walk," he says, but it gets lost in Adam's neck and Adam's too busy talking to hear anyway.

"I'm warning you, don't you fucking collapse on me..." he says into Kris's ear, and wow, does Adam sound pissed. "Don't. God, I can't believe you did this."

And that hardly seems fair. It's not like he had much of a choice at the time, and besides, Kris doesn't feel like collapsing at all. Not unless Adam wants to go collapse somewhere with him, and that thought is so insane it makes him laugh.

"You're over-reacting," Kris decides to say, but there are way too many syllables involved. He settles for, "Dude. I'm fine."

"Yeah?" Adam says at the bottom of the steps, and lets go of him as they step through the doors and out onto the street. The cool summer-night air hits Kris like a punch and he stumbles a little, almost goes down before Adam grabs him again. "Uh-huh. That's what I thought."

"The car's coming around," the security guy says, just as a cab pulls up in front of them, and Adam yanks the door open.

"Forget it -- we'll take the cab," Adam says, waving him off. He shoves Kris in ahead of him and climbs in after.

"We need to go to the emergency room," he tells the driver, at the same time Kris blurts out the name of their hotel.

"So which one is it?" the driver asks. "Hey, no one's bleeding on my seats, are they?"

Adam turns to Kris and he's furious, as pissed off as Kris has ever seen him. "Give me one good reason we shouldn't go to the hospital right now."

""Cause I'm okay?" He's not sure how to convince Adam of that. "Hey, you know Monroe-girl took that Tylenol, too," he adds, in a moment of inspiration.

"Yeah, that's reassuring. She could have taken a tic-tac, for all you know --"

"No, no way. We shared it."

Adam shakes his head. "What are you talking about? Shared it how?"

And Kris is getting very tired of trying to explain this, especially when words aren't really working for him lately, so he just leans forward and grasps Adam's chin. He tugs until Adam opens his mouth, just enough for Kris to slip inside and melt their tongues together, and oh, _this_... this is what he's wanted since he took that little pill, since before that, maybe, it's so obvious now. Adam tastes so good he sucks lightly on Adam's tongue, just a little, until Adam makes a sound in his throat and pulls away, looking utterly and perhaps permanently stunned.

"Kris," he says.

The cabbie looks at them in the mirror. "Let me guess. The hotel?"

Adam just sits there blinking at Kris in this weird, intense way before he finally says, "Okay, the hotel, but you have to promise me, _promise me_ that if your heart gets all trippy again, you will not screw around, okay?"

Kris thinks it's a little too late for that but he just nods. Adam turns away to look at the driver with that stunned expression still on his face and says, "Just drive? Please?"

She shrugs and turns back toward the front.

Kris really wants to kiss Adam some more. He wants to hear Adam make that sound again, and he wants Adam to maybe touch him somewhere other than his shoulder, but the line of Adam's jaw is set in stone and he's staring out the front of the cab like he's the one driving. Kris gives up and sags into Adam's side, rests his forehead into the curve between Adam's neck and shoulder.

Immediately Adam turns his head toward Kris, presses his fingers to Kris' neck. Honestly, the guy is obsessed with Kris' pulse, but Adam's touch is wonderful so Kris just leans in closer.

"Hey, you still with me?" Adam whispers. The street lights flash past and the darkness of the cab is something close and intimate. "Don't go to sleep."

"Not sleeping," Kris mumbles. "You worry too much. You don't need to freak out." Most of that is understandable. Kris calls it a win.

Adam shakes his head and lets out a breath that isn't entirely even. "I don't know, Allen... kissing girls in clubs, boys in taxis... you're still scaring me a little."

"Sorry." Kris breathes it into the soft spot underneath Adam's ear, but he isn't sorry at all. He still wants to climb into Adam's lap and make out some more, but as tense as Adam's holding himself that would probably send him screaming over the edge. Kris runs the tip of his nose up into Adam's hair instead and breathes him in, puts his lips against Adam's ear.

"Clove cigarettes? Really?" Kris laughs a little, lets his mouth brush Adam's skin. "Who smokes those?"

"People in Michigan, apparently..." Adam turns and presses his forehead to Kris's, closes his eyes. "You're making me crazy. You know that, right?"

Crazy pretty much covers the whole night, as far as Kris is concerned, but Adam's mouth so close to his is definitely frying a few more brain cells. "Better crazy than scared," Kris says, and he makes it a question because Adam still hasn't opened his eyes and Kris can't tell what he's thinking.

"I just wish you would stop now," Adam says.

That makes Kris sit up a little, try to pull himself together, but the cab's stopped and they're at the hotel. There is no way he can make his legs work enough to get out of the cab on his own.

Adam throws money at the driver, who probably hasn't stopped smirking since they left the club, and hauls Kris out of the back seat. They're at the locked, side-entrance of the hotel, alone on the deserted street and Adam lets Kris drape an arm over his shoulder as Adam uses his key card to open the door.

Adam is way too quiet as they wait for the elevator.

Kris wants to tell Adam he's sorry for kissing him. He also wants to offer to kiss it better, maybe, which even in his own mind doesn't make sense, so he leans against the elevator wall where Adam propped him, feeling lonely. Adam stands on the other side and looks at him, his eyes exhausted and his expression absolutely unreadable. The silence is kind of awful, but Adam's phone rings before Kris can start talking to break it.

"Megan?" Adam say. "What did you find out... she is?"

"Speaker, speaker," Kris says, and flails his way across the elevator toward Adam. Adam sighs a little and holds the phone out, and now Kris can hear Megan talking.

"Okay, this chica swears it's prescription and it was just the one..." Megan says over loud music, but then her voice gets muffled like she put her hand over the phone. Then she says, "Here, talk to her yourself."

"Who is this?" Adam asks, and Kris thinks Monroe-girl is lucky she isn't in the elevator because Adam's wearing his 'I'ma cut you' face and that is never, ever a good thing.

"Hey, how's it going?" Kris adds into the phone, trying to lighten things up.

Adam shoves him away a little, and says, "What the fuck did you give him?"

"It was just five milligrams of Vicodin," Monroe-girl shouts over the phone. "What is _wrong_ with you people? I think this blonde chick's gonna beat me up."

"_Only_ five? Are you sure?" Adam asks.

"From my roommate's prescription bottle, I swear on her nose job. I thought he knew!"

Adam glances at Kris. "You allergic to Vicodin?"

Kris has to think back to freshman year of high school. Shakes his head. "Dentist. Root canal." That seemed to cover the highlights. He thinks some more. "It made me. You know. Loopy."

"Beautiful," Adam says.

"I told you it was no big deal," Monroe-girl says over the tiny speaker. Then she laughs. "Hey, is this really Adam Lambert?"

Adam flips the phone shut. He turns to Kris, that unreadable expression back, but then he laughs a little and looks at the ceiling. He reaches out, tangling his fingers hard in the longer hair at Kris' neck and shakes him a little. Then he pulls Kris close until they're forehead to forehead again. "God, Kris, I swear if you ever do this to me again -"

Kris should probably apologize some more, but with Adam so close he's losing his words again, and Adam's hands aren't completely steady, either. It's a few seconds before Kris realizes it's just from relief and he sags a little. He's still drunk and he's still loopy and Adam is right _there_, only apparently Kris can't have him. Disappointment makes him brave. "I can't believe you're not going to kiss me again," he says.

Adam goes completely still, long enough for Kris to feel the exact opposite of brave, in fact, but then the world is moving in ways Kris hadn't expected. Suddenly his back's to the wall and his front's to Adam, and maybe he isn't the only one who's spent some time contemplating how their bodies would fit together, because the way he ends up with Adam's chest against his and Adam's thigh nudging between his legs to hold him there is so smooth it could have been rehearsed.

This kiss isn't anything like the other one; this kiss is all Adam, his hands in Kris's hair, his mouth all over Kris's jaw, his neck. Then Kris gets one slow slide of Adam's hands down his back, over his hips to drag him up and finally, _finally_ Adam's kissing him again. His mouth is fierce and possessive, and Kris isn't entirely sure where he wants this to go but he definitely doesn't want it to stop.

The elevator has other ideas, though, and slides to a halt as the doors jerk open with a soft ding. Adam releases him immediately, pulls him out of the elevator into the thankfully empty hallway, and Kris lets himself be dragged into their room.

Kris stands in the darkness after Adam pushes him through the door, weaving a little, while Adam turns the lock. It takes him longer than it should, and when Adam finally turns around, he doesn't move right away. Suddenly, Kris is cold.

"Hey, come here," Adam says, and reaches out. Kris stumbles forward, clumsy with relief, and then everything's fine because he's got Adam in his arms again, warm and tight against him, kissing him deep and sweet and slow. Kris wants to do this all night, maybe tomorrow, too, but after a long minute, Adam lifts his head. He presses his mouth hard against Kris's cheek and lets him go.

"Wait. What?' Kris says.

"You should lay down." Adam turns on the lamp and makes Kris sit on the bed. Kris watches stupidly as Adam pull his shoes off, collapses back against the pillow when Adam presses on his chest and stares after Adam as he crosses the room to his own suitcase.

"_Seriously?_"

"You'll thank me," Adam says, voice muffled as he pulls his shirt off, finds sweats and a clean t-shirt. "_I'll_ thank me. Right now I'm hanging on to that one pretty tight."

Adam turns out the light and gets in bed with him, but it's obvious nothing's going to happen, even when Adam puts his hand over Kris's heart, makes a fist in his shirt and leaves it there.

"I want to feel," he says. "In case you have a reaction."

"I'd call this a reaction," Kris says, feeling sullen and suddenly so tired he could float.

Adam laughs, once. "A different reaction. A bad one."

Kris closes his eyes. He's still kind of mad at Adam for not kissing him anymore, but the last thing Kris thinks is that there are worse ways to sleep than with one of Adam's hands on his chest and the other stroking idly through his hair.

**

The next morning Kris wakes up alone with his hangover.

He lurches out of bed and shoves the bathroom door open without knocking. He surprises Adam, who's aleady showered and dressed, standing in front of the mirror and smoothing goop into his hair.

"It's aliiiiive..." Adam says beneath his breath, eyes on the mirror, but Kris is too busy splashing water on his face and rinsing out the swamp of his mouth to answer. He stays bent over the sink just a little past too long, trying to put off the moment he has to look Adam in the face. Finally he has to glance up, his cheeks starting to burn. Adam meets his eyes for just a split second before he leans into the mirror, fixing a smudge of liner beneath his eye with his ring-finger.

"So. Last night you were an idiot and took some random shit in a bar, then draped yourself all over a few people, mostly me," Adam says to his own reflection. "And yes, I kissed you like the credits were about to roll, but you are not allowed to be weird about it, because this is what happens _when you take random shit in a bar_."

Kris wipes his mouth with a towel and watches Adam watch himself. "I'm not being weird. No weirdness." He's surprised to find he means it.

"No?" Adam finally looks at him.

"No." Kris tries to grin. "I think it was weird enough last night."

That makes Adam smile, too, rueful and self-conscious. He crosses his arms and leans on the counter and addresses Kris directly, even if he mostly stares at the floor. "You scared the crap out of me."

Kris rubs his face. Even his nose hurts. "Yeah, I got that. I'm sorry."

Adam waves a hand, but he still doesn't look up and Kris knows him too well after all these months, knows every gesture, every mood. Knows there's more to this.

"You know, I'm kind of surprised you'd freak out like that," he says carefully. "I mean, _you're_ not exactly --"

"I know, I know," Adam rubs his eyes. "I know how I make it sound, but just trust me... I've seen some really bad stuff happen to some very nice people who were just screwing around. I don't want that to be _you_." He pushes a hard index finger into Kris's chest in emphasis.

"Ow," Kris says. "Okay, okay. Jeez. No more random shit in bars."

He rubs the sore spot. It gets too quiet again and Kris wants to say he's sorry -- for everything, the trouble and the kissing, even if that part was the opposite of awful, but instead he says, "Thanks. For, you know. Worrying. And not being weird."

"I'm always weird," Adam says, but it's automatic and he's smiling at Kris now, flash of white teeth and movement of that freckle above his lip. The one that reminds Kris an awful lot of a Monroe.

Oh, hell.

Kris _knew_ there was a reason he thought Monroes were hot. And worse, now Adam thinks Kris is looking at his mouth.

Because he is. Totally on purpose, too.

Adam's smile gets wider.

"You should shower. We've got press in thirty."

Kris has to smile, too. "See you at breakfast?"

Adam nods, like that's a promise, and he's still laughing when he closes the door.

END

 


End file.
